A Touch of Red
by shooptastic
Summary: For Lovino, designs are slow and unoriginal. All that is needed to give him the boost he needs to return the unique and beautiful designs to normal is perhaps a striking hue of beauty, the glittering colors of a Spanish lady, and perhaps, a touch of red.
1. Chapter 1

_Fixed from a roleplay with the lovely Kate, or pilkopants on tumblr. c":_

* * *

><p>It had been the offer of a lifetime. Good pay, an opportunity to wear the countless shoes in her closet from her old modeling jobs...<p>

She thought she'd take a break from modeling for a bit, and actually get something done. Like work as an intern for the third highest appraised designer in the UK. She strolled into her new job, very fancy, very polished. Antonia smiled and straightened a curl back behind her ear. "I'm looking for Mr. Vargas?" She asked with a peppy sunshiny ray of happiness to the receptionist who looked like she was about to choke at the sight of a fresh face.

Lovino was sitting in his office, phone on speaker, leaning his chin on his hand and his elbow on the desk, seconds from jumping down the idiot's throat.

Where was his damn secretary? Intern. Whatever he was supposed to call them. The bumbling oaf on the other end of the line mentioned the shipping to Hong Kong and he leapt up, banging on the desk and cursing at him. Nothing was to be sent to Hong fucking Kong! No one was going near Hong Kong with a ten foot fucking pole!

He could be seen, but not heard, by the rest of the office through the glass panels of his wall. No one batted an eye. Daily occurrence.

After the choked looking receptionist got the all-clear from a other receptionist— how fancy, Antonia thought as she took the cup of coffee resting, still piping hot and rushed into the elevator, aching to get away from that sickly looking woman. Man, it looked so nice and clean in here; she smiled a bit to herself.

Once on the top floor, with such an amazing view of northern London she thought she'd love to get a promotion already to sit and watch the red buses and the busy people...

One thing Antonia did hope honest to god for was that her new boss wasn't the man with the pinstripe suit and the red-angry face.

Lovino had paused, staring at the phone, seeming to have the full intention to rip it from its cord and throw it through the window. Had that little weasel just told him to 'listen'? He spat the final unpleasant word and ended the call.

Someone with more time on their hands could handle it later, he decided, taking a stack of yellow folders and going to find out where his help was, and why they were late.

With the clack of her finest shoes, the brush of her tight pencil skirt, she was somehow horrified to see the angry man coming straight towards her.

His redness had gone down, but he still looked rather angry. "Good Morning," she told him, forcing a genuine-looking smile. "Are you Mr. Vargas?"

"That depends," He muttered, looking her over and glancing around for any other potential underlings. "Who are you?"

"_I'm_ your new intern." She said, a little more confidently. "My name's Antonia, I hope to have fun working with you." Antonia almost forgot the coffee! She handed it to him with a gentle hand. Perfect.

He took it from her and looked at it before his eyes flicked back to her face, his expression quite calm, but betrayed by the little crease in his brow. "You're late."

"I'm sorry... sir, but I was told to be here at eleven." She recovered, beating herself from the minor mistake she had made.

"But work doesn't start at eleven. _I_ don't start at eleven. _I_ need my things ready when _I_ get here, which is at ten," He answered condescendingly, still not taking a sip of his coffee. "Which means you would have to be here _at..._?"

"Ten," She blurted, nodding her head. She was never ever told when this man would get there. "I'm sorry, I was never informed..."

"I get here at ten," He pressed, raising his voice over hers. "And my things need to be ready before I get here. Are you going to set up my work for the day in a few seconds?"

She thought about that, so confused and stressed the thoughts that were coming so slow already were like turtles in a marathon. "No, no." She shook her head again, her bangs sliding out of her bun. "No, sir,"

"So... you would have to be here before ten," he told her slowly, with a plastic smile. It dropped as he turned and walked into his office, raising the coffee to his mouth. "Come in here. You have a pad with you?"

"Yes," She said immediately, fishing it out of her purse, she had also been given. Those designers could not resist her, for some reason.

This one just wanted to vomit on her. Cocky. Antonia followed him, her heels clacking against the floor with perfect little clicks.

Lovino put his coffee on his desk with the folders and motioned to the seat in front of him, leaning back on the table and waiting for her to sit down.

"You didn't tell me your name?"

He wasn't that good of a listener, either.

Antonia sat down immediately, crossing her legs and setting her purse down. "Antonia, sir," she said clearly. "Antonia Fernandez Carriedo."

"What a beautiful name. Well, you know who I am," he replied with an affected laugh, flashing a smirk. "And what do you want to gain from working here, Antonia?"

She would have smiled if that didn't sound so uncaring to her ears. How many failing interns did he tell that to?

"I just moved here from Spain after a few modeling jobs," She replied, pulling her bang back. "And I wanted to try something different, and the pay was rather good."

He raised his eyebrows. Wow. Everything about that answer _failed_ to impress him. "You're a model?" He asked, looking her over with poorly hidden disdain. She was... attractive. Definitely. However, far from stunning.

Moreover, she clearly had not been paying much attention to trends. How he hated brainless models that just let themselves be dressed like dolls, never having any gut to stick to fashion outside work. "Good for you."

"A foot model," She rushed, smiling sheepishly. He was looking her over like a prisoner on death row, evaluating if she'd give him a show. "It's not much, but it's something. And this is a better something." Antonia clicked her pen and set it, ready onto her pad.

"I would think so," he muttered, not quite under his breath, picking up the files again. "Now, in before ten, we've talked about that. That's all clear?"

This bastard was so cocky. She breathed out, nodding her head. "Yes, I'll be sure to get here early." Antonia answered, writing that down, cursive and everything. How nice.

"Good. Now, this," he added, nodding to the coffee beside him. "Is shit. I'm sure she's an extremely professional woman, but she can't make a decent cup of coffee to save herself... I don't see her often enough to be picky about it. But we'll be seeing a lot of each other, and I want you to get it right."

"Okay." She nodded, making a dash in her pad. So. Fucking. Cocky. But; she had to stay calm. Interns always had to stay calm. Always. "I can go make a cup for you after you tell me how you like it, if you wish." She offered.

"I have one in the morning, one ready when I get back from lunch, and one at about four o'clock, so you don't have to get me another one right away,"

He looked over to see if she was getting this, and if she was impressed by his selflessness in not insisting another coffee. She didn't say anything. He frowned and carried on.

"I take mocha, two sugars, and extra dry, with half-skimmed and half-full milk."

Maybe, with some cinnamon and perhaps the whole kitchen sink... She smiled at her own little joke, scribbling that down. Did coffee really have to be so complex? Antonia looked up, disheartened by his frown. "Is that all?" She felt herself say, and quickly regretted it.

He didn't care for her tone, and handed her the files with a stony face.

"This one, the _top_ one, is calls that have to be made and calls that are going to be coming in. Do not make a call when you are expecting a call in the next few minutes, you'll block the line. If someone calls about Hong Kong, tell him to stop wasting my damn time. This one is a schedule. You make sure I'm in every meeting I need to be in. If I tell you I'm not going, you give them an excuse. A good one. Are you getting this?"

She set them on her knee, trying fiercely to right down everything. "Yes, yes, I am, sir." She mumbled from her pad, wondering what the fuck was wrong with Hong Kong. This was all reminding her of a movie she had sat down and watched with her old friends in Spain, and this bastard in the big chair was acting just like the devil in the movie.

"Good," he said again, standing up and going around gesturing her out of the office and showing her to her little desk nearby. "Here." He picked up the phone and pressed one, pausing and listening to the phone in his own office ring through the open door. "If you need me or you have a call that I have to take. Don't bother me if it's not important," he warned.

She nodded, reaching into her purse for a pad of sticky notes. "Alright," She replied, to show she was listening. "I'll be sure to remember that."

Satisfied, Lovino flashed another smile and clapped his hands together once. "You can get started, then. Don't worry about running out of work; you'll add something onto the list every time you make a call. I have a lunch meeting in an hour. When I get back, something is going to be on my desk. What is it?" He asked, with another smug smirk, testing her.

Was she daft? Did he think she was useless?

"Coffee," She replied, her face turning into something of offence. "Piping hot mocha with two sugars, extra dry with half-skimmed and half-full milk," She even had it memorized; she was staring at her pad so much.

"Excellent," He praised dryly. "Do you have anything you want to ask?" He muttered with disinterest, looking across the office and then to Antonia. She'd had a lot of his attention already.

"I'm all set!" She said, her voice probably echoing with irritation. "Thank you, and if there's anything you need," She crossed her legs, taking a planner from the corner of the desk.

He should hope she'd help with anything he needed. She was his assistant. Lovino gave her a curt nod, deciding not to go into it but marking her down in his head. He went back into his office, closing the door behind him.

After she peeped very stealthily over her desk to look into his office, seeing he was sitting down, she relaxed back into her chair, sliding off her heels with a big stretch.

What a cunt, the multimillion bastard.

He filled the hour easily, looking up once or twice to his intern through the glass. She would occasionally pause and hold her hands above her work, thinking about what to do next.

Disorganized. He gave a sigh and stood, pulling his suit jacket on and walking out past her desk to the elevator, not looking at her. She had better things to do than to be smiling at people, anyway.

Antonia had called all of the clients; with a bit of bite to her words of he'll call you at so and so. She plucked up her jacket, even managing the skills she had learned in high school with time management. She made twenty minutes of dead silence on the phone to get the man his damn wakening elixir.

She was starting out above average, almost constantly comparing herself to the ever-so beautiful Anne Hathaway. She was better than she was at a job she only knew stories about. Cool beans.

. 0 .

He strolled back in forty minutes later, feeling particularly arrogant after a satisfying meeting, barely stopping at her desk in walking to his office. "Fill me in," He told her, expecting her to follow behind.

She picked up her planner, sliding her heels back on with a silent huff. "Man from Hong Kong keeps calling, finally had to tell him off. You have two meetings at one and four tomorrow, each with..." She tutted her lips as she closed the door behind her, losing her place. "Feliciano..."

"Why?" He mouthed silently, sitting down at the desk and picking up his coffee. "What does he want?"

"Said he wanted to see you," She said, sitting down by his desk. "He said he had some really good news."

"He thinks _everything_ is good news..." he told her, almost scolding. "He doesn't need a meeting for it. Phone him back and tell him I'll call later. When I'm not at work. Make sure he gets that, stop calling me at work about 'good news'."

"He said something about a boyfriend." She said to him, showing him the blue sticky note she had scribbled down while the rather friendly man talked to her about his plans. "He found inspiration for a new line and wanted you apart of it."

Damn. Half of that was work-related and half wasn't. Therefore, it was somewhat relevant. He took a sip of his coffee and considered. "Okay, okay, _scratch that_. Tell him he's getting one meeting and we can talk about... whoever it is... some other time."

"His name sounded German. Couldn't catch it." She added, flipping open her planner again. She'd have to draw little lines of motivation on the sides. This was becoming a habit. "Did the meeting go well?"

A German? Lovino didn't know any- He tutted and groaned in realization. Feli's fucking tank of a friend with the serious face and the bad vibes. There was no way. He frowned at Antonia, although it wasn't her fault, for delivering the 'good news' and ruining his mood. "It was excellent, thank you."

"My pleasure," She answered, scanning over her list. "Other than that, I'll write out a list of calls you should be expecting..." Antonia answered, plucking her dear friend Mr. Pad-ington from her stack of things.

He bristled. She had sounded extremely sarcastic - had she intended to answer him back? If she had been on the phone, he would have hung up. He waited for her to finish and took the paper from her hand, reading it over in aggravated silence.

"I'll be out here, then." She gave him a plastic smile, clicking back over into the corridor and back to her desk. Obviously, something about his brother being gay rustled his already askew feathers.

"Thank you," He replied venomously, almost feeling the need to call her back and excuse her himself. He was getting sick of this woman and her snarky little cuts.

Antonia picked up her phone, tapping in Feliciano's phone number with her green, stationary-accidentally-stolen-from-the-bank-and-other-places pen. She had told him all about how the first night went, much to her surprise.

She felt that if she was on the phone longer than three minutes His Royal Butt-Knot would come stomping out in his dress shoes and demand she hang up on his brother. She listened, getting notes from her planner for tomorrow, a little 'a-huh a-huh' from her lips every so often. He spoke so fast.

Lovino watched her as she sat down and dialed. A minute later, still talking. Another minute, still talking, smiling and laughing occasionally. What was she doing? He raised his phone to his ear, eyes fixed on the intern and hearing his brother excuse himself for being so excited. He frowned. Antonia laughed, looking to the top of her receiver.

Conference Call. Huh. She paused, picking up her phone to reflect the image in the small window. She couldn't see much, so she set it down and scribbled a few more notes down. "It's been a joy talking to you, Feliciano. Mr. Vargas will expect to see you around one. There's no four o' clock appointment, alright?" After another laugh from a 'Mr. Vargas was my father' comment from the other side, she professionally said good-bye and almost slammed the phone down. Sneaky ass was listening in on her.

Lovino sat still as the phone slammed down, took a breath and walked out to her desk, an incredibly forced smile faltering on his face. "Who was that?"

Antonia inhaled, shrugging. "Just your brother; he got carried away talking to me. I didn't have the heart to hang up on him. But someone else was using the line so I finished up."

"Well, have the heart," He snapped, smile dropping completely and leaning forward. "This is a business, there's no time for his damn gossip."

"Why don't you tell your brother that?" She whispered, leaning forward. "His business might be a little less depressing then this one,"

His eyes flicked quickly over her face — he almost seemed to panic at her talking back. "I think you could be more _grateful_ at the opportunity you have here," He hissed, scowling.

"I've only been here for _six whole hours_!" She shouted, leaning back. "Sure! The pay is more than enough! It's perfect pay! But is the shit I have to put up with really worth it?"

Lovino didn't pause then, more at home with screaming matches than with quiet threats. He gave a snort, shrugging and holding his hands up. "Life's tough, sweetheart. You want to be here? You want to do this job? Then you put up with all the shit I throw at you, and you do it with a damn smile. It's not my problem if you're too sensitive."

"I'm about as sensitive as weight-lifters." She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "The only reason you've gotten so far in the fashion industry is your brother! _You_ just stole his designs!" Antonia got up, shrugging at the man and grabbing her coat. "And now that he's inspired, _what's going to happen to you_?" She said in a babying voice, her volume rising to its limits in the office. All eyes were on them. Small murmurs of 'She's so fired,' were chiming in her ears.

Lovino, embarrassingly, was shortly silenced.

He stared at Antonia, his mouth closed tight, because he knew if he opened it, he'd stand there speechless and agape, looking like an idiot. He could feel every fiber of him prickling in horrified shock, his face going red. "Fine," he finally said quietly, stepping forward to her. "If you'd rather go back to Spain and be completely thoughtless and nameless for the rest of your life, that's fine with me." He looked away and kicked himself, knowing it looked slightly pitiful, as he had been trying to keep eye contact with her.

"Not everything is names in this world, Mr. Vargas." She spat, tying her coat around her waist. "You'd be a great man if you weren't so obsessed on how you can draw designs with your cock." Antonia slid her things into her arms, her purse over her shoulder, and with a final nod, she stormed down the hallway, not even bothering with the elevator. She took the stairs.

The office was deathly still, the sound of Antonia's heels still clicking along the corridor. Lovino could feel the eyes on him, probably silently cheering that he'd had such a telling-off. He couldn't bring himself to leap to his own defense, and stood wondering if she was purposefully trying to irritate him or she was just extremely honest. He realized that perfect honesty did irritate him, bristling at the thought of being seen as she saw him - wasted talent, too obsessed with image.

"Get back to work," He muttered, turning and going back to his office, feeling as if he were on display with everyone watching through the glass, very humiliated.

She faced the first floor, eyes watching with interest as she defiantly clomped out, probably never to see her again. She'd stop by the market that night, pick up two tubs of ice cream and eat them all that night while watching movies with back-sassing employees. Antonia reminded herself of the look on his face; something of pure horror and shock. Perhaps most other personal assistants of his simply bawled their way out of the building. She refused to turn back though. She'd find a new job.

She'd sleep in and expect the termination notice from her flat home extremely soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Lovino lay back on his bed, still in his suit trousers and shirt, with the phone in his hand. He'd just managed to shut Feliciano up by telling him he had to be up early the next morning. He could be irritated by his brother's excitement, or standoffish about his choice in men, but in all honesty he had gone through the entire conversation with only a few, 'hm's and, 'good for you', and, 'I never liked him' —not that Feliciano cared. No one had ever told him he could be a great man before. A great designer, maybe, or a good businessman. But never something so simple, or so obvious.

He thought of how disgusted she had looked, God, how she must have _hated_ him, the way her sharp green eyes absolutely bore into him. She must have seen something worthwhile, or she wouldn't have said it. Nevertheless, whatever it was completely out-weighed by what a massive pain in the ass he had been. He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, at a loss.

Antonia later called in that evening to whoever really took her call; she wasn't sure. She called in for one of her sick days, just one. She was complaining of headaches and migraines and a bit of vomiting. The nice woman had probably heard about her call out with the head of the whole company and understood completely.

Still, there was no call of her losing her job. There was never a point in time when she was called to discuss how she'd be murdered with the pinpoints of black stilettos, either. It was foreign. She sighed and changed the channel to something she'd understand better, getting ready for the day of thoughts and relaxing. Shark week was a good choice to go along with her Ben and Jerry's _'Just for my Lonely and Failure of a Employee Me!_' size, in the special super deluxe chocolate flavor.

The next night, Lovino found himself in the exact same position, staring at the ceiling. He had spent the entire day with his head down or snapping at anyone who tried to talk to him, thinking about her. How her seat at her desk was empty, how she'd called to say she was sick - not quitting, _sick_.

He kept telling himself he'd never see her again, and that was a good thing, because they hated each other, and she didn't want to be near him, and he didn't want to spend time with her, particularly, but she was only 'sick'. Implying she'd return. He'd have to face her. Despite the fact that she was the one who had snapped at her boss, he felt he was going to be punished. Lovino dreaded seeing Antonia, although the very same idea made him anxious and desperate to smooth things over.

. 0 .

With the last red-hot curl of her curling iron, Antonia set aside her morning duties and slipped on a new pair of heels. If she was going to be mauled by Human Services and Lovino Vargas himself, she had to be looking pretty. Antonia slipped on some waterproof mascara to her could-always-be-longer lashes. She was always planning.

She plucked her portable mug of coffee from the machine, gave her turtle a fleck or two or treats and stomped off, ready to face the world. The world was very cold, in reality. Much like what the office would be to her, once she got there.

They'd act unbelieving, astonished, awed. No termination notices. Apparently Vargas and Co. wanted to supply each employee with a personal 'you just got canned'. After they had the coffee, the planners, the sticky notes, even a stress ball, as an attempt at an apology... for her self— of course. It was going to be a long day, and it was only 9:35 am.

Lovino arrived at work early. Fifteen minutes early, as was a personal best. He had hoped to get there before Antonia, maybe be sitting waiting for her with some coffee... that was funny, right. Because she would usually get him coffee? He was a funny son of a bitch.

Much to his dismay, Antonia was already sitting at her desk when he walked in, so he took a deep breath and started over.

"Morning, sir," She greeted not looking at him at all, already punching in a number that needed to be called. The office had slowed to a standstill, as if everything in the main room to the back of her was in molasses. She saw some of them whisper, _'Wasn't she fired'_ or _'Man, she's lucky'_ or _'Did they get together last night? Maybe that's what she was 'sick'._

They were all so nosy, nosy, nosy. She tutted, her bun shaking behind her. Designers and office drones were pathetic.

He shot a general glare to the room. It had no effect and there were a few amused smirks to greet him. Fantastic. He cleared his throat and looking back at her. "Antonia."

"Hmm? Yes?" She looked up from her phone mid-dial, sticking a finger in the receiver to end whatever call was going out. "Is there something you need?"

He met her eye and —ah, she looked amazing. It wasn't fair, she barely looked any better than she had at the start of the week, why did he have to notice it now. He glanced away quickly, pretending to wipe a speck of dust off the front of her desk. "My office, when you get a chance." He nodded at her and went, wanting very much for his life to just end at that moment because damn, he was a nervous wreck, and he had no call to be, and it was getting him so frustrated he could barely concentrate.

No 'my office, now'? He seemed like a nice person, today. Although he seemed a bit whipped. Huh. She stood up, brushing off her skirt and walking into what seemed to be the bull pit to her. Everything was all calm, no screaming phones or coffee fits. Antonia sat down, fixing her heel before managing her up-right position.

Lovino leant against the front of his desk, standing near Antonia and watching her sit down, silently struggling to think of anything to say. There was a reason he had never considered a post in Human Resources. He looked at her and gestured slightly, almost blurting when he spoke. "How do you feel about what happened on Monday?"

"Ah, you're still kind of a _dick_ for yelling at a woman, but in all fairness, I yelled at you... and you didn't fire anyone over it..." She paused. "I kind of don't remember most of it, but the yelling part," Antonia nodded, feeling stupid for not grabbing her pad. "It's was a Monday."

_Flattering_. He had lost sleep over it, and she barely remembered a damn thing.

He took a slow breath to keep his head. "You still want to keep your job here?"

"If you still want to keep me around, yes," She replied, adjusting her spot. "Of course," It made little to no difference to her.

Lovino nodded slowly, considering how to phrase this without coming off as a total creep or making an obvious u-turn in his opinion. There was no way it wouldn't be slightly weird, whichever way he peppered it. "I... I understand that it's difficult to start a new job in a strange country," He started, feeling hot and only stealing the occasional glance at her, choosing to look around to distract him. "And I probably didn't make it any easier for you."

Her brows probably furrowed, confused and a little crept out. "You just started out on a really bad foot." She explained, inspecting her nails for any dirt or leftover ice-cream bits. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes and refusing to look away. "So, how'd you figure out I was from Spain?"

"You told me," He replied, with a smug bite just sneaking into his tone. Woops. "You told me you came here after a few modeling jobs." He crossed his arms, more comfortable, and smirked. "At least one of us was paying attention."

She managed a small smile, taking off one of her heels, showing him her feet she took such good care of. "Guess I forgot that part." She snickered, waving her toes and setting it back into the heel.

He probably looked at her foot longer than was appropriate in a professional situation, but it was very, very nice. Smooth-looking, well-kept. He pulled his eyes away from her shoe (which was also a nice shoe, he noted) and looked back at her, more awkwardly again. "Well... I've been in your situation before. So if you ever want to talk to anyone about it or anything..."

She crossed her ankles, staring at her knees. "Nah, nah, I'm fine. Learning English wasn't a problem for me." She lied smoothly, finally deeming this meeting as just 'I'm sorry about yelling at you yesterday but I really like your tits and I want to get with you.'

Oh. That was... too quick for rejection. She had probably just misunderstood. "Right," he nodded, looking at her. "No, good. That's good. The offer's there, if you ever... feel like getting some coffee after dinner. Shit, work," he cursed aloud, feeling his ears burn in warning that he would be very red-faced very shortly. "I meant to say work; I don't know why I said that..."

She looked down to see a good few centimeters of her breasts peeking out, and quickly adjusted it. She sat back in her chair, crossing her legs. "Are you inviting me to dinner?" Antonia teased, tapping her chip as she tried to figure out ways to look like less of a slut.

Yes ma'am. There wasn't much point in trying to cover that one, which he presumed would haunt him and label him as one of those sleazy, ass-grabbing bosses. "I wasn't, but I think I just did," answered Lovino, noticing her adjusting her outfit and keeping his eyes on her face. Her. Face.

Antonia wasn't expecting that one. She breathed out, calmly_. "Seriously?"_ She asked, shaking her head. "Maybe you should lay off the half skimmed. It's starting to confuse you."

Why didn't he deny it? She looked at him as if he was insane. When she gave him that serious look, he just told the truth —it wasn't his fault. It was her fault for making him feel like a stupid little kid getting in trouble for getting his new shoes dirty. "You can go back to work now," he muttered, mortified, going around to the back of his desk and sitting down. He picked up his coffee and took a sip. "Thank you," he added quickly, nodding to the mug.

"It's my job, sir," She chimed, not trying to seem like she was rushing out to get cracking on phone calls. Feliciano must have come in yesterday. Shame, she really wanted to meet him. Antonia refused to be caught up in Lovino's almost date-request.

He was just a jackass with a bunch of money and looks that could kill the hearts of un-feeling girls.

That's all he was.


	3. Chapter 3

Antonia took off her coat, still shivering from the cold. He always needed his coffee at the same time, same place, and even the same type. How boring, she thought, even going so far as to buy some for herself. "Here's your drink," She announced as she nearly barged in, seeing as she was always being peeped on from outside in her desk.

Lovino looked up from pretending to look very busy and important, gesturing for her to sit the coffee down and looking up at her reddened cheeks and nose. "It's still cold out there?" he asked, just to make conversation, feeling like an idiot. No, Lovino, she'd put that on with make-up, of course it was fucking cold.

"Freezing!" She laughed, almost hysterical from the cold. "It's pretty nippy; I'll need to wear a bigger coat." She took a sip of her own, hesitating to leave. Nah, Antonia was entitled to some conversation.

She was hanging around. Lovino muttered a laugh too and took his coffee, waiting for her to speak. She wanted to tell him something, right? She probably wouldn't be near him if she could help it.

"So how was your brother yesterday?" She asked, sitting down with her coffee. "You said you wanted to have coffee together, why not get it out of our schedules, aha..."

Oh. He looked up at Antonia, and she smiled.

Ha, he knew it. As if she would be able to shoot him down. He still had it. It wasn't an allocated break time for her, but in all honesty, he didn't give a shit about timekeeping, and only liked to enforce it because he had the power to do so, so he cracked on.

"He was... Feliciano..." He shrugged. "I barely got a word in."

"Good designs, all that?" She asked, stirring her brew around. She liked hers black. Lovino obviously wasn't as much as a cock twirling ass-shat. Nevertheless, he still had a little fighting drive in him and she'd give him that.

Yes. Beautiful designs. They were beautiful designs that Lovino would have shoved into stranger's faces just to flaunt had he been the one who had created them. He pulled a face. "Yeah, I guess."

Obviously, he had thought back to the moment she accused him of stealing his brother's designs.

"Doesn't sound like it, huh? Military wear wasn't it? Fun stuff," She raised her cup to her lips, muttering under her breath, "Not like you could do much better. Dry designs,"

Lovino was about to defend his brother, honest, he was... they were great designs. However, he stopped short, noticing her mumble as she breathed over her coffee, feeling irritation creep over him and trying not to frown. "I can't hear you," He told her, in a falsely apologetic tone.

"Its fine, its fine," She forced a smile, looking over the damp parts of her shoes from the mucky weather. "I was just reminding myself that I had to go to the salon at some point."

Damn. He practically had to force himself not to scowl at her. He knew that wasn't what she'd said, but neither did he know what she had. Any more tension would mean either firing her or having her quit, and he didn't quite know why he didn't want that. At all.

He just hummed and took a sip to stop himself letting a, "...good," or, "...about time," slip out to spite her. He was in the presence of a devil woman.

Antonia stood up, finally feeling she had returned her feelings ten fold. "Well, it was... nice having coffee with you." She had to force a polite word out of her mouth, something that she didn't usually have to do.

Lovino nodded and stood to walk her back to her desk. "We should do it again. Or not," He added in haste, reliving the dinner fiasco. "Whatever. We're both busy. I'm really busy."

"It looks like it." She smirked, looking at his practically blank-colored sketchbook. "Try something with red." Antonia was a bit skeptical when he opened the door for her, going as so far to pull out her chair... "Thanks."

Smirking...! That bitch!

_Red, as well_, she had no idea what she was talking abo—!

Huh.

Red. He tilted his head at the half-finished sketch tucked to one side of his desk. Red. Red would be good, he realized, shamefully, looking over at her. "Thank _you_," He stressed, now more irritated, practically rushing her out.

"I'm out, I'm out!" She shouted, purposefully drawing the attention of the employees. "You need to get out of your comfort zone. Beiges and blues aren't hot," She whispered, sitting down and flipping her planner open.

He blinked at her, suitably offended. He wasn't stuck in a comfort zone! He did a lot with green! He had that... one outfit with a green scarf.

"You need to remember what you're paid to do," He muttered, spinning back around to her, his patience thinning as he remembered why he hated this woman, "... which isn't to advise me. Or to cause a scene every goddamn day..." He gave a little nod to the rest of the office, who were starting to pretend they weren't looking, and failing spectacularly.

"I'm like a little bundle of something extra, sir. Hire me and you get something more." She said, returning to her professional state. Finally. It offended Antonia bit, she never meant to cause any scenes. Her anger just got the best of her. But boy was she ever looking forward to getting home. She picked up her phone; noting that it was indeed just the numbers and not a conference call.

"That's what they call it," he muttered, picking up her call schedule and striking a few names off, adding a few in, and handing it back. "If Feli calls, tell him to shut up. I mean it, actually say the words, 'shut up'." He was sick of hearing his voice and his perfect designs and his perfect handsome boyfriend who just made him so happy- Lovino was happy for him, why not, but it was grating as hell.

How sad; she actually liked him too much to even say 'Shut up' to his face. "Sounds good," She replied, spinning around beside her to her bag and tugging out her own sketches wedged between an accordion folder of papers and information and a notebook labeled 'Call History'. As if Antonia was that organized with her things. Ha.

He nodded, satisfied that she had enough to do, and went on his run around the office to check up on everyone else. He liked this bit. It was full of 'right away!' and 'yes, Mister Vargas' and 'Ha-ha, good one, sir!' He knew he wasn't funny in the slightest, but his ego enjoyed the attention.

Antonia waited until he saw him sit down, and moved her little iMac or whatever it was, it was rather spacious, to block her face from the spy-window he had probably installed for such purposes. She worked on a few things after she left for England, on a plane; but after that, nothing. Now, she had the urge to sketch something out while she made a few phone calls. Red was the exact color of anger.

Lovino looked up at her occasionally, just as he went from desk to desk, so as not to look too... obsessed was the only word he could think of, which worried him slightly. He noticed that whatever notes she was taking seemed to be making her more and more frustrated, concentrating hard at the paper and moving her hand quickly. Odd.

"Yes, yes, he's free tomorrow at eleven A.M. We can fit you in," She said clearly, adding a tailor fit to the— yes... Perfect. "Thank you, we'll see you then!" She chimed, her face not moving along with the words as she set the phone down, looking over to her call plan. Next up, some person with a fucked up last name—

He walked down the row that went behind her desk, walking quietly with his hands behind his back until he could get close enough to see... that she was fucking coloring in! He stood over her shoulder, and she took no notice, so he cleared his throat loudly.

She slammed the ringing phone down in horror, slamming her sketchbook shut. "Yes, sir?" She asked, her lips twitching, daring not to meet his eye.

Ah, she was nervous. Excellent. Something to either put her in line with or show her how decent he was by ignoring. "Can I see your work?"

"Oh!" She laughed, almost shouting no, no, no, please god, no. "Oh, oh, well, it's not much," She turned around, clutching it to her chest for dear life. She had problems with unrevealing clothes. It'd be a streamline of swimsuit like outfits... couture, as they called it.

"Let me see your work," He repeated, telling her rather than asking her, because he could do that sort of thing. He held out his hand, waiting, and looking down at her expectantly.

"Pff— Nah!" She blurted, her face burning as red as the tailored coat she had drawn. "I…ha-ha… I mean, with all due respect, _Mr. Vargas_, it's just a bad set of drawings, you don't want to see them."

"That's funny," He smiled falsely, cutting across her. "It was like you just told me what I wanted."

_God,_ he was terrifying. "I'm only saying because it would be an insult to your abilities, sir..."

"Don't bullshit me," He started, teasing her slightly, but he wasn't sure if it was showing or not. "In any case, you were supposed to be making calls, not doodling. Therefore, you can show it to me or I can confiscate it. Your call," He smirked, feeling particularly smug when she glanced back at her book.

"I _was_ calling people!" She nearly raised her voice again, but quickly acted against it. "Fine, just—" She couldn't think of a threat, so she just gave him the sketchbook, turning back to her planner with the expression of pure dread on her face.

"Thank you," He replied, peppy and overly pleasant as he scraped a chair over by his foot and sat down besides her, opening at the first page. Yes, he was going to do this in front of her. He was allowed.

"Some are from when I was just starting out being a foot model," She whispered, rubbing her slender hand over her face. Torture. "At least stay silent so I can make a few calls for you," Antonia said, looking over to his position.

Man, can I get you some fresh lemonade or a hammock? Maybe you'd like a throw pillow. Make yourself at home!

"I want to know who your last boss was, letting you talk like that to them," He muttered, flicking through the sketches of shoes, decent sketches... nice sketches... good sketches... a few lonely games of tic-tac-toe and scribbled notes in Spanish, he assumed. The designs worked up from shoes, to skirts, waistcoats, and a jacket that was particularly impressive. He realized with an internal grimace that he was going to have to praise her for it or give her total shit for not working and distract her from his opinion.

She groaned into her hand, nearly slamming but rather loudly resting her hand back on her desk. Okay, sorry Mr. Scootsinbacker, we had a little distraction...

He was quiet, not saying anything about her banging around, enjoying how tense she was getting. "These are _interesting_," He admitted finally, having a final flick through and glancing round at her, the look on his face both amused and sincere. _"Lots of red..."_

Your face is going to have _'Lots of red...'_ from the back of my hand if you don't give me back the fucking book you devil man. She sighed, holding out her hand to take it back, not looking him in the eye, dialing in the number... "Can I have that back now that you got your daily dose of entertainment?"

He tutted as he began closing the book with a snap of his wrist and shaking his head at her. "Nope,"

She was about to protest but the designer needing to be called finally picked up. "Oh, yes, hello! This is Antonia, Mr. Vargas's assistant speaking, just calling to confirm the time for the meeting tomorrow—" Antonia said, rather professionally as she glared him down, reaching for it as far as she could, mouthing the words 'please, please, please' with the world's most desperate expression.

He held it out at arm's length, stretching away from her with a bored look on his face, and yawning, just to rile her.

"Oh? That's great!" She said, her expression saying otherwise. Antonia's nose flared out, so frustrated and miserable this job didn't seem like it was worth it. "If you want to discuss anything with Mr. Vargas he's in his office right now,"

His brows furrowed and his mouth opened, ready to mouth all sorts of obscenities at her, when his chair slipped under him tipping and he almost crashed onto the floor, still holding Antonia's book aloft, trying to get up and silently jog to his office before the phone rang. With the book safely under his arm, he glared around the room as if to say, 'you didn't see a thing'. He reserved a final scowl for Antonia and stepped in just as the phone buzzed into life, slamming the sketchbook down on his desk.

Antonia set her phone down, getting up to fix the chair mess and get a piece of notebook paper, and perhaps she could finish her things there. Tunic and leggings, how original, she thought with a huff. However, this wasn't going in her sketchbook. No, that one would have to be burned from touching the armpit of Lovino Vargas.

He really, really, hadn't wanted to get into a phone call with this guy, he took a fucking week to finish a sentence... switching off aside from an occasional word of agreement, he tried desperately to catch Antonia's eye, pointing at her, and then the floor in his office, telling her to her ass in there.

About the fourth time he pointed at her, she looked at him, shoving the drawing in her planner and placing said object under her arm. Man, Lovino sure loved seeing her, and making fun of her, and taking away her things, didn't he?

She opened the door, shutting it carefully behind her, not expecting much.

"Uh-huh... uh-huh... yes, absolutely..." he continued to mumble, glaring sideways at the phone. "Okay, yes, see you t- no. Yes, she's new." He paused, turning away just a fraction. "Fine. It's all fine. Okay, goodbye." He put the phone down and shot her an un-amused look. "That is not funny," He hissed. "You have no idea how boring that man is. Don't do that again."

Antonia sat down, smirking, reaching for her sketchbook. "I had to do something; you're always doing that; staring over my shoulder like a vulture." Sure, the man was boring as hell, his voice was monotone and his designs were the same, but Lovino deserved it, somehow, someway.

Lovino put his hand on the book before she could slide it off the desk and stared at her. "I said no," He sighed, raising an eyebrow. "I need to find more designs to steal."

"Make your own!" She hissed, tugging on the edge. "You have all this wasted talent! Put it to some use and draw as a designer's supposed to— from scratch."

See? That was an attempt at a joke. Of course, he wasn't going to steal her designs. But no, she practically spat at him and ripped her things out of his hands. "No," He rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to say, 'that's a good one, sir', and laugh."

"That's a good one, sir!" She laughed, sarcastically more than anything. "Now stop bullshitting me before I—... Ooh!" She saw Lovino's own sketchbooks resting on the mini little table beside her, picking one up and flipping through it.

Not his designs, stolen ideas, mocked styles...

"Ah, this is trash. Stop imitating people."

"Alright, that's enough," He spat, grabbing it out of her hands and pointing a corner at her, suddenly much more irritated. "I'm sick of you saying shit like that; you think I've never made an effort to be here? This is all I've ever wanted to do and I worked damn hard to do it. You can't accuse me; you've known me for about ten minutes!"

"If you've seen my designs then I want to see yours. The one's that made you big." She hissed back at him, crossing her arms. "If you're not going to use my designs, why are you keeping them?"

"The difference between _your_ designs and _my_ designs is that _your _designs are in here..." He put a finger on her sketchbook. "And _my_ designs are out there..." He pointed forward, alluding to the world in general. "You can see mine, whenever you want. This is new. This is fresh," He told her, thumping his finger back on her sketchbook, still torn between being angry and showing off and being passionate and getting carried away. It resulted in a strange mix of the two.

She stood up, tapping her fingers along her crossed arms. "So, is that why you're keeping my sketchbook?" She asked sweetly, clicking over to the side of his desk. "Sure, it's new and it's fresh; even though almost all of those drawings are a year old; at least, but I never said you could use them."

"I never said I was going to," He argued, a little intimidated by how calm she seemed. "They're yours. However, you said you had to start somewhere, and you're starting here. Moreover, I know how to get things moving. You didn't come here to be a secretary, did you?"

"Actually, I did." She smiled, adjusting her bun as she paced around. "I hate designing. I just picked it up for shoe ideas and soon I was drawing handbags and coats and skirts..." She shrugged.

He stared at her and blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I don't like designing a bit. That doesn't mean I don't like fashion, does it?" She answered simply, spinning on her heel.

"Wait," He called, stepping forward after her. "You don't even want these designs?" He scoffed, amazed, becoming more embarrassed, too. "Antonia, they're good, some of them look really good... you could _be_ someone...!"

"But what if I don't want to _be_ someone?" She asked, taking a step back from him. "What if I just want to settle down with someone; live in a house and just be happy?"

Lovino went quiet, holding the sketchbook in his hands and looking at it, then to her face, feeling awkward and unsure, and hoping it wasn't coming across. He held out the book for her to take as she pleased, but shrugged. "I think its wasted talent."

"Well. That's something we have in common." She snorted, shoving it to him. "Keep it." If he was going to be the one spreading his name like butter on toast then let him go at it. She'd just sit with her... husband yet to meet and cuddle up on snowy days; as they did in the three am movies, the ones she had watched when the going got tough at Vargas Designs.

"I'm not going to use these," He insisted, muttering feebly. He kept a hold of it anyway, and squirmed at how frank she was.

"Maybe just as a memory when you fire me," Antonia smirked, moving to grab her planner and exit his office. "Or something to burn tonight and laugh at. Either way, I don't care."

He opened his mouth to argue back and fell short, stuck with shaking his head at her, flustered and frustrated. "Why would I laugh at you?"

She gestured to her face, her outfit, and her shoes. "Why wouldn't you?"

He looked her over as she instructed, seeing barely a fault. Well, that was a lie; she probably owned a blouse that went better with that skirt, but nothing actually worth mentioning. "What's wrong with you?" He shrugged.

"Oh, nothing," She rolled her eyes, opened the door and went back to her desk. She was obviously a terrible person to talk to; her hair was a mess, now. One of her heels was about ready to break— cheap piece of identical designer shit, and her skin was breaking out from all the stress. Her make-up was wearing off as well, and Lovino just said ' I don't see anything wrong '. What a blind, stealing piece of—

He didn't follow her, and sat back down at his desk instead, angry with himself without knowing why. Apparently, complimenting someone's talent was offensive nowadays. On top of that, Antonia seemed to firmly believe that he was laughing at her behind her back and out to take her work.

He hadn't been the nicest person ever, admittedly, but he was innocent on those counts. He glanced up through the glass, watching her frown and pick up a pen, scribble on a sheet, and practically throw it back down when it didn't work. He gave a frustrated sigh and pulled out his own sketchbook, flicking to the back, finding a clean page.


	4. Chapter 4

With two personal bests for timekeeping in as many days, Lovino Vargas was doing well. He had been sitting with their coffee since quarter to ten, hers black, his the best he could do for himself. He had practically forgotten everything that went into it. It was now ten past, and in any other instance he would have been simmering away quietly in his office, ready to explode when the offender dared to show their face. But no, that wouldn't do. Calm, collected, coffee-bringer. These would be his new accolades. No employee could hold anything against him when he was so thoughtful, surely.

Antonia had swung out the elevator, her breath squeaking from the cold. Her face was all cherry red, with just a little bit of bogeys running. Quickly fixing that, she knew she couldn't afford to be late any longer. The rumors she had overheard from the cubicle section behind her own little wall while a few girls were having their lunch breaks weren't helping matters. _'Heard last time a girl was late with his cold coffee, he threw it down her shirt...'_ Oh god—

He brought his head up at the sound of heels clacking through the corridor, and was shocked into an awkward, accepting smile when Antonia hurried in, looking frozen and rushed.

"Shi—" She hissed, slamming the door back when he was in there. He was worse then the fucking Grudge! Antonia calmly but swiftly tugged off her coat and scarf, throwing her purse into her chair. Okay. Take two.

She strolled in with her face composed and calm, setting down his coffee, but looking confused when he had some by his side. "Good morning, Mr. Vargas," Antonia told him, although it sounded like a question.

"Yes, thanks," He answered, holding up her coffee with what he hoped was confidence, when in reality he let out a slightly nervous sigh. He corrected himself quickly. "You take it black?"

"Yeah, yeah," She replied, still confused. "Thank you," Why did he get here so early? Well, according to this clock over here, it was ten forty-five. He didn't come until eleven. Then all hell usually broke loose with the phones. "So did your alarm go off early or...?"

He snorted and shook his head. "I thought it would be good to put in some more time," He shrugged, looking at her. "You don't think I make an effort now and again?"

No, you sit and stare at me all day. "Oh, sometimes. On a good day," She joked with a plastic smile, taking her coffee from him with silent thanks.

He nodded and took his own coffee, raising it to his mouth for a sip. Eugh. Awkwardly, he pushed it aside and took the coffee Antonia had brought him. Much better. "You seem cold," he said, for the sake of making conversation.

Antonia touched her cheek, feeling the cold bite of the London air on her cheeks. "Oh," She blurted, getting kind of embarrassed. "Well, um, I overslept, and I couldn't get my scarf on all that way..."

"You don't need to make excuses for being cold," he said shortly, looking at her, almost offended. "What do you think I'm going to do?"

"Tan my hide? There are rumors going around. You must really intimidate people. Not like I'd know..." Antonio coughed, nearly downing her drink from the warm powers it possessed.

Lovino was quite sure her hide was tan enough, like the rest of her. Oh, God. He'd just made an internal ass joke. He was a horrible boss and should be found out and fired immediately. "I'm not that bad," he argued feebly.

Antonia shrugged. "You may not be to me, at least, not since the first day, but there was a pack of girls outside my window telling each other stories about encounters with you." That had almost sounded a little too much like encounters with ghosts or demons, perhaps. However, he did look nice today she'd give him that.

God, 'encounters'. As if, he was constantly on the warpath. Ha, 'as if'. Although he was fairly certain Antonia wasn't telepathic, he still felt extremely nervous for thinking of her in a sexualized fashion that men in the workplace were always being told off for, even for a second. For in the off chance she had known, everything would go down the pipes and he'd have no assistant and a reputation as filthy as his mind. He quickly decided that he had to be as respectable as possible, just in case. He wasn't even interested in her like that. It had just been a lapse. "That's unfortunate," He muttered, taking another sip of his coffee, although he wanted to pry.

"They even said you once _threw_ a cup of coffee at a girl who didn't answer an important phone call." She said after him, her eyes unconsciously admiring the curve of his jaw and the amber-hazel-green of his eyes.

"What?" He snapped, losing any cool-headedness he had. "That never happened!"

"Well, there's worse," She piped under her breath. "They said something about breaking a cell phone, and—" She shook her head, ripping away from the twists and turns of Lovino's hair. "I'm sorry, sir,"

"No, go on," He pressed, straightening up and crossing his arms.

She tugged back a curl of her hair, shaming herself for not pulling it back far enough. "Well, they said you also threw one of the sketchbooks of a designer in the trash and walked out..." Antonia busied herself so she wouldn't have to look at his obviously getting-worked-up posture. "Just coffee-talk; gossip, really,"

Shit. That had been months ago, he didn't think anyone remembered that... "I never broke anyone's phone," He insisted, dropping his head to look at his coffee.

Antonia had heard other things, too, things that deserved to stay in high school. Affairs, as if either of them were married— she had checked, also, sex nights, one-night stands, meet-me-in-my-office behind the desks…

Her nails scratched her coffee cup, silently building up anger. She wished she could fire people.

Lovino tensed at her silence, looking up with a more nervous expression than he would have liked. "You don't believe them?"

"No, I mean," She scoffed, setting her cup down with a fuss. "No, I don't."

"Listen, Antonia," he started, not quite believing her. "I'm not a bad person..." Yes, you are. "I... I lose my temper, I get distracted, I talk without thinking, but... half the things you've heard are probably lies, I'm not like that," he spoke quickly, becoming flustered at the thought of someone else turning against him.

"You should have heard the things they said about me. No, sir, I don't believe them." She said with her tone a bit more firm then what was required. "They need to go back to high school." She grumbled, taking one more sip before packing up her things to start the day.

He considered that for a moment, and stopped her before she went out to her desk, irritation clear in his tone, with a protective edge to it. "Who? What were they saying?"

"Mr. Vargas, settle down, I'm fine." She advised, ducking around his arm. "Just a couple of ignorant souls about to get their ass kicked if they don't straighten up and do their jobs." She said a bit louder, pointed towards their famous coffee break area.

He smirked at her, almost laughing. "I didn't realize that was your call."

"That's actually Human Resource's call." Antonia hung up her coat and scarf on the little hanger beside her desk, worrying about the heel on her shoe she had forgotten on the way over; how it was threatening to snap off.

Oh, touché.

He shook his head, amused, handing over her commotion sheet and dropping his tone, looking her in the eye to make sure their conversation could be held as quietly as possible. "Tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable," He told her, although he wasn't sure what he'd do if she did come to him with a complaint. It felt like the right thing to say.

The way he held himself made her uncomfortable. She somehow felt bigger than he did, but still, crippled by what he thought she was capable of. "Alright," She smiled, turning on her computer. Those girls were probably just all Facebook-deprived anyway.

Good. He stood at her desk for a second with nothing to say. He opened his mouth, but just shrugged and pointed to his office, giving a slightly nervous laugh under his breath before he left.

She moved her folders to block the window looking to her desk, right next to the computer screen so she could have maximum privacy. Awkward little turtle of a man was always ogling at her working, something he hadn't done.

Commotion list... Oh, today's rather laid back. _Yay, Tuesdays._

. 0 .

For some reason that night, sleep was hard to come by. She was up all night staring at her 1990 brand television in her room, tuned into an infomercial. Laser hair removal was nice. But she wasn't focused on rip offs on adds or cooking tuna fish thirty different ways. Lovino had seemed friendlier, more complex then she liked. She had begun to love his attention, for he really was a nice man when he tried, instead of detesting his gaze. Antonia might have had a little, very little, something for her boss.

This was highly unacceptable. _She_ was usually the one being hit on. Antonia rubbed her eyes at her desk, getting ready for another coffee run after listening to a horribly angry client. This job was only worth the man she worked for and the money she made.

Lovino picked up an order that had been printed through to his office, and went to hand it to his assistant. She had seemed much more at ease with him, and he liked to think, at least, he hoped, it was because he had got over his stupid crush on her. Well, not over, over. He still thought she could be quite stunning, on occasion.

And witty. And caring. And good at her job— okay, he wasn't over it, so what?

He had learned not to act on it, and that was what mattered. He stopped at her desk, holding back on giving her more work while she rubbed her face, looking exhausted. "What's the matter with you?" He asked.

"I was up all night thinking about yo—…gurt." She stumbled, rubbing her temples. "And one of your clients just gave me a lashing in Spanish and unfortunately _I_ understood everything," Antonia hoped to god that her little dozy mess-up would not fail her today. "I'll get your coffee; just let me finish up this spreadsheet."

"Yogurt?" He repeated, scoffing and shaking his head. "Ignore it; they all expect work done for them." Whoa. Shit. Shit. "I meant at that office, I didn't mean Spaniards." Stress, screaming and casual racism — their silent office romance had it all.

"No problem." Antonia barely even caught that. "Italians always overwork themselves so it gives us Spaniards something to do." She got up, wearing ballet flats today since she literally could not bear to be on tiptoes for eight hours for six days straight. She tugged on her coat, wrapped herself up in her scarf and threw on her gloves. She was going to need an extra shot of caffeine in her cup.

Phew. She saved him from a badly timed slur once again. "Oh," he said, without any intention to do so, as she stood up, holding the order forms in his hand. "I was going to ask..." She's already getting your coffee, Vargas, be a fucking man. He went to talk again, and realized she seemed much shorter today. He looked down at her shoes, thin and flimsy. "You're going out?"

"Yeah, I was getting us our coffee." She answered, feeling like the kid he talked her down to be months ago without her extra four inches. "What would you like to know?" She buttoned up her trench coat, throwing on her loose beanie cap for good measure. Hot.

But there was snow on the ground... well, slush, they were in central London and nothing stayed white and pure for long, but the sentiment remained. "You, uh..." He handed her the order form and sighed, not in exasperation, but in preparation, feeling both proud of himself and extremely embarrassed. "You make four copies of that and I'll go out."

"You don't even know what you like to drink," She teased, setting it down for later. "I'll be fine; it's just down a few blocks. Besides, I just got all bundled up." Antonia never minded a little slush or some ice. If she came back clutching her tailbone from a lousy slip, sure, Lovino could go out with a post-it note of what he liked in his mocha.

"Then write it down for me and get unbundled," he told her, turning to go to his office and get his own coat. This was an excellent display of compassion and chivalry and she wasn't allowed to mess it up. "... Your feet will freeze."

She looked down. Her feet were looking happy as clams, grateful for a day without molding to a high heel's cramptastic form. She was looking shorter, which probably got Lovino his extra boost of confidence and man-funk for the day. "We could go together." She offered, wanting to be away from the phone.

That really wasn't productive. Moreover, it could only result in awkward conversation or a fall-out over a badly phrased joke. "Okay..." he answered, hearing his voice as if separate from his body. He had meant to say no, honest. "If you're sure,"

"My feet aren't going to get frostbite, if that's what you're worried about." She laughed, setting her computer on locked-mode in case one of the girls wanted to root through her files. Locked her new sketchbook in the desk as well, along with her other things she could be rooted out for. Damn sneaky foxes, never did have the heart to tell Lovino what was going on.

He gave a nod, to say, 'of course, ha-ha...' and went to his office to bundle himself up, too. Going for coffee together. That was fine. Sounded like a date, but it wasn't a date, because it was coffee he had with her everyday, and now, they were having it outside the office building instead. All fine. He wasn't anxious in the slightest. He stepped back out in his long coat, winding a scarf around his neck. "All set?"

_Yeah, just making sure these sluts don't steal my phone and go through it! _

She took it anyways, nodding, setting up the re-direct system if anyone needed to call Lovino. "Sure am! I have an extra pair of gloves if you need them."

He looked at her, about to laugh, and realized she was serious. He was all for equality and everything (having turned a new leaf), but he wasn't wearing women's gloves. "I'm fine," he shook his head, holding a hand out to signal her to go first.

Oh. "Alright then! They were just black unisex gloves. But, if you'd rather stick to freezing your fingers off. Cool with me." Antonia chirped, calling the elevator and giving a fucking obvious glare to the girls eyeing her desk with interest. She was short today, but that didn't mean she wasn't just as sassy.

Damn, he couldn't really change his mind without being obviously petulant and somewhat sexist. He'd stick his hands in his pockets and it would be fine. The elevator pinged and he let her go in first, jabbing the button to take them to the ground floor.

They were totally going to fucking try something. They always did. Too bad, all of her drawers were locked up tighter then a closet of gifts on the day before Christmas. She scowled at them, who just looked frightened and a bit freaked out. She'd get the permission to fire someone eventually. Tch.

Lovino frowned at being ignored, looking over at her, noticing the scowl on her face. Had he done something wrong? "What's the matter?"

Just as Antonia was imagining their little sorry faces as they got their things together from their gay ass cubicles, she was caught. "Oh! Sorry," She smiled, stomping her feet a little bit to get rid of the extra anger. "Nothing's the matter, how about you?"

"I'm fine," he nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking at her, thinking of how defensive she always was in front of the rest of the office. "Is someone bothering you?"

"Nah! Say, this isn't the best time, but do I have the power to fire someone?" She asked, looking up at him, her yellow beanie flopping over the top of her head. Just look innocent and curious. That's all. "Just curious,"

"Depends what the problem is," he answered, shrugging. "I'm your boss, directly. I could fire you... but with anyone else, it would be a company problem. I suppose if I put a word in to whomever that could it would happen. So, yes,"

Fuck. Looks like the spies would have to stay until she got enough backbone to finally beat the shit out of them verbally. "Okay, thanks." She sang, stepping out into the ground floor with a slight frown. "It must feel nice to just say 'you're fired' to your assistants!"

He looked around at her quickly. "I'm not going to fire you," he assured her, walking across the floor and holding the door for her.

Ah, that settled her spirits. She thanked him and scowled to something new. The weather. Flurries a' plenty, and it was only five o' clock. She pulled up her beanie and dug her toes into her flats, waiting for her trusty boss.

He frowned and stood by her at the door, digging his chin into his scarf. "You can go back upstairs," he told her, thinking of her toes.

"And catch those little rats in the act, maybe," She grumbled into her scarf. "No, no, I'll be fine. Last time you ordered your own coffee you said it tasted like dirt."

He looked around at her. Deep breath and step into it, get it over with. He went into the snow, big flakes catching in his hair immediately, waiting for her to do the same.

Antonia walked into that shit like it was fucking sunshine and rainbows. Although she hadn't seen a lick of sunshine; nor a rainbow in the past few months. "Have you ever heard of a product Head and Shoulders?" She asked, tiptoeing up to his shoulder to brush back a clump or two.

"Ha-ha," he said, looking across at her, already feeling his nose tingling with the cold. "Because it looks like dandruff, very funny..."

"I've never seen you outside before, is all," She laughed, skidding across a patch of ice with practiced, but a little unsteady, grace. "You're going to be a cotton ball when we get back. Here." She took her beanie and slid it over his head, wary of the curl that looked like some sort of ironic fashion statement.

He had put his hand out to stop her from falling, but she had managed to save herself, and by the time he had realized everything was fine after that little moment of blind panic, he had a hat on. He grumbled and took it off, spinning around to face her. "Don't do that; just keep your hat on..."

"Aw? Do I not wear enough blue and beige for you?" She asked, tugging it back on. What a grumpy boss. She was only trying to be a good assistant, but he forced himself along... She yawned, getting another impact from the two hours of sleep.

"Don't start," he warned her, watching his footing carefully. God, if he fell in front of her. He'd never live it down.

He frowned and stood by her at the door, digging his chin into his scarf. "You can go back upstairs," he told her, thinking of her toes.

"And catch those little rats in the act, maybe," She grumbled into her scarf. "No, no, I'll be fine. Last time you ordered your own coffee you said it tasted like dirt."

He looked around at her. Deep breath and step into it, get it over with. He went into the snow, big flakes catching in his hair immediately, waiting for her to do the same.

Antonia walked into that shit as if it was fucking sunshine and rainbows. Although she hadn't seen a lick of sunshine; nor a rainbow in the past few months.

"Have you ever heard of a product Head and Shoulders?" She asked, tiptoeing up to his shoulder to brush back a clump or two.

"Ha-ha," he said, looking across at her, already feeling his nose tingling with the cold. "Because it looks like dandruff, very funny..."

"I've never seen you outside before, is all," She laughed, skidding across a patch of ice with practiced, but a little unsteady, grace. "You're going to be a cotton ball when we get back. Here." She took her beanie and slid it over his head, wary of the curl that looked like some sort of ironic fashion statement.

He had put his hand out to stop her from falling, but she had managed to save herself, and by the time he had realized everything was fine after that little moment of blind panic, he had a hat on. He grumbled and took it off, spinning around to face her. "Don't do that; just keep your hat on..."

"Aw? Do I not wear enough blue and beige for you?" She asked, tugging it back on. What a grumpy boss. She was only trying to be a good assistant, but he forced himself along... She yawned, getting another impact from the two hours of sleep.

"Don't start," he warned her, watching his footing carefully. God, if he fell in front of her. He'd never live it down.

Antonia didn't rush him. Obviously walking in his own designed shoes was very hard for him. She didn't even dare wear his designs other than a handbag or two. It was so pretty, sure, but it was also as inconvenient as fuck. "Did you know there isn't anything good on while _you're_~" She slid on another patch of ice, regaining her footing. "While you're up all night thinking about how bad that yogurt might be in the fridge?"

He had grabbed her arm at her sliding across the pavement, and pulled it back, embarrassed. "Why didn't you just sleep and throw it out in the morning?" He asked, and wondered where this relationship was going. He wasn't sure he wanted to spend a lot of time with anyone who lost sleep over yogurt.

"Well, y'see, I was more stressed out over work." She said, fixing her gloves as they drew closer to their coffee spot. The road was just icy as the conversations they had, so she assumed she was just innocently lacing her elbow into Lovino's arm. "So slippery!"

She put her arm there. She put it there, not him— it was okay... Lovino wondered when he had gone from being attracted to her to actually being nervous at the thought of touching her. He used to notice her absence because he missed looking at her, because he missed her running errands, but he never used to miss her, as a person. Now he both relished and despised even the tiniest interaction with her, because he was always making an idiot of himself in front of her. He nodded and brought his elbow in closer to his body to try to keep her upright, reaching the coffee place and shouldering the door open, both of them smacked by a hot waft of air.

Antonia let out a sigh of relief, her face flushing a bit with the heat of the bistro and the tightening of Lovino's elbow. She gave it a little squeeze, daring herself to keep it there as long as possible for no reason at all. Smiling, she walked up to the counter, chuckling when she caught eye of Lovino's horrible 'dandruff' problem.

He stared back at her, letting out a quick, 'oh', and a nervous laugh, pulling his arm away and running his hand through his hair quickly to get rid of the flakes. His hair stayed stuck up, wet with the snow, but he didn't notice and put his hands back in his pockets to fish out some money to hand over.

It was as if the employee knew exactly what they wanted because she had it right there, ready for her. Lovino needed to lay off the coffee. Antonia's face tightened and pulled, embarrassed by the familiar display. "Well you see me at least three times a day," giggled Antonia, stopping Lovino with a mere hand on his pocket. She fished out the exact money, looking up to him with a slight shake of her head. "Funny, huh? And you can't just use the coffee machine I got you for your Secret Santa so I didn't have to run each and every morning?"

"I don't make a lot of coffee," He admitted, nodding to the employee and taking his drink. He'd have to pay her back later, he decided, and held out his hand to invite her to take a seat rather than head back to the office.

Odd. He drank more coffee than the average Italian. It was weird. Something she'd have to ask Feli on their weekly phone calls on Wednesdays. "You don't have to pay me back," She pressed, sitting at a seat in the blind spot of the rest of the store. She didn't like people spying on her.

"Of course I do," He insisted, sitting across from her and taking off his coat and scarf, feeling his nose and cheeks as pinched from the cold as Antonia's looked. He looked up at her, feeling he'd forgotten to press something serious. "Did you say work was stressing you?"

Even if Lovino Vargas had looks that could kill a woman walking down the street without him actually opening his mouth, and his slight chivalry that popped out from time to time brought her to her knees, his stubborn nature was a bit too hard to handle, sometimes. "No. Must be imagining things,"

Maybe this was pushing his luck, but he'd pushed his luck pretty much every day since he'd met her, so this didn't seem like to huge a leap. "You don't seem to talk to other people much," he tried to say nonchalantly, behind a sip of coffee.

Antonia shivered a bit, looking up from the warm slip of her coffee. Black with one sugar. She was the best.

"There's a pack of girls that stalk my desk. Does that count?" She joked, not ever meaning to get them fired. It was her battle. She'd fire them herself once the power was available. Lovino was just a stubborn rat right now. She busied herself with a candy cane from a holiday filled with toys and snow, which was a week ago and found she was fiddling with its small wrapper.

Lovino shrugged at how bitter her tone had dropped at the mention of the other women. "So? What do they have to talk about?"

"Everything, the coffee skanks." She left the last part muffled in the soft crinkles of the cane's wrapper. It was like she was talking to her high school principal.

He snorted and tried to hide it. In addition, failed. "And I'm sexist... I just never hear you complain about a man," he added quickly, to save his footing. "You've never done anything, who cares what they say?"

"They talk all about you, too, sir." Antonia added, slipping the hook of the cane in her mouth.

He also failed to stop his head snapping up at that. Act cool. "I don't care," he lied, hunching over and putting his hands around his coffee, now wanting to ask her to explain, but desperately wanting to know.

"Yeah you do, sir." The 'sir' helped the sass, she thought. Better keep using it. "Your composure is just itching for me to tell you what they say on a daily basis behind my window."

"Well, go on, then," he snapped, frowning at her. He sighed and muttered an apology, quieting down to hear what she had to say.

"Mm," She took a sip of her coffee, setting down the cane with a face of disgust. Mint and Coffee don't mix in her book. "Nah… You'll fire them. I know it."

That was cruelty beyond cruelty. "For what? Having an opinion? Just tell me."

"No, because I want to fire them personally. And I can't do that unless you give me permission, right?" She was kind of enjoying this game, but her face wasn't really showing it.

He was getting sick of this. "I can't fire them just for disliking me. And neither can you," he reminded her - that was weirdly malicious of Antonia, he thought.

Shit.

"They said _all_ this stuff about how your brother was better than you- which isn't true- and that you had sex with me on one of the days you pulled me into your office because you liked my 'spunk'." She put a air-quotes around the last word, rolling her green eyes. "I think they meant the day you almost fired me. Huh."

Lovino went quiet, staring at her, more hurt than he expected to be. "But none of that's true," he said, at a loss for anything else. He considered and shrugged hopelessly. "Maybe the bit about Feliciano, but... if I copy him and sponge off of his ideas I'd be as good, but I'd be a fraud. And if I don't, I'm always being compared to him..." His voice raised slightly and grew more irritated as he spoke. "How is that fair? I can't do anything right by them! And on top of that they make up stupid rumors!"

"Keep it down, I know." She hissed, crossing her legs. "They even root through my stuff while I'm on my lunch break or when I go out to get coffee. For condoms or love notes or whatever; but luckily I can lock the drawers. It's so annoying," Antonia rubbed her temples. glaring up to the ceiling.

"Why would you lock the drawers?" He asked, bringing his tone back down, but still anxious and upset and irritable. "Why not just let them go through and see that there's nothing there?"

"Because sometimes they take my pens and all that!" Antonia replied, irritation at the thought of the girls on the rise. "There is nothing there, but isn't that illegal? It's like I'm a cocaine-addict and they want to catch me in the act or something."

"It's a pen!" He replied. "No, I can't fire someone over one of your damn pens without it looking like a favor, and then they'll really have something to go on!"

"Probably looking through your shit right now," She grumbled, looking away from him. What a spine-less cock-licker.

Shit. She had turned away and resorted to muttering. He was such a tool. "Look, I'm sorry," he sighed, embarrassed. "It's not your fault that they do the things that they do, but you just have to learn to live with it. Not everyone's as nice as you are." Oops.

What? She turned her eyes back to him, a little confused in her sleepy composure. "Not everyone's as honest as you, either." Antonia said a bit louder, looking back over to the door. The snow was getting heavier.

"That's probably a good thing," he shrugged, taking another sip.

"Honesty is what draws a woman in." She told him, slapping her flats on the floor.

He snorted, turning to face her more. "No one told that to the women I know, but thank you."

That didn't make sense. She needed sleep. "Uh-huh," Antonia replied, nodding her head. Daily routine.

Oh. No one had told Antonia honesty was a good thing either. Maybe she preferred well-placed lies. "Do you want to take the rest of the day off?" He chanced, looking over at the door. The snow was falling thick, fast, and heavy. "I'll say there was an accident and we got caught up."

She looked back at him, an unbelieving smile on her lips. "Sure, but aren't you the one more concerned about the phone lines today?"

"I'm the boss," He reminded her, and despite himself, he said it somewhat smugly. "Someone else can worry about it."

"... Alright," She agreed after awhile. He must have really liked her if he had noticed she badly wanted out of that ball and chain by her desk.

He gave her a slight smile and pulled out his phone, starting a tale about a car skidding and someone being hurt and stopped to be asked about the accident... yes, yes, what a pain, put Sarah on the desk, she knows what to do... He looked up at Antonia. It was a low blow, but 'Sarah' had always had some certain arrogance about her, a sneer on both her damn faces. He could have picked her out of a line up over who was stirring shit.

Antonia scowled at the name of 'Sarah'. Probably the leader of the pack. Now she'd be out for her job...

"So, now that we have the day off, what do you want to do?" She asked, trying to seem pleasant and enjoyable.

"You haven't been here for long, have you?" He asked, leaning forward on the table. "We could see some sights. Get some dinner," he added quickly, and finished his coffee.

Walking around in that weather with all that ice out there almost came at her like the idea from hell. "I've only been here for a year and even then I've been shoved up in my flat." She answered, slipping her shoes back on and uncrossing her legs. "Depends on where you want to go."

Oh. Oh, this was happening. He panicked, and tried to cover it. "Well, that depends on you... it's not the best-looking city in the world but... there's a museum for everything. What do you like, art? Film? War?" Ew. Who asked a girl if they liked war? No one liked war. "I mean… music?"

She laughed. "I've never been around much. I haven't really had much sleep, so maybe somewhere that's relaxed?" Antonia offered, on the verge of falling asleep right on that table with Lovino to look after her. He was such a nice boss... he'd understand...

"Uh..." Fuck. Nowhere in London was relaxed. Everyone was busy, constantly. Or drunk. "We could just go home. Shit, I meant you could go home; you don't have to come to my home. I'm not saying you can't or anything..."

This was going well.

How cute, he was getting all flustered.

"I'd love to see your home, if you'd let me." She hummed, leaning into the table, her droopy expression resting in her hands. _"God, you're so handsome."_ She whispered as she looked over his face.

Wow. He stared back at her, his eyes widening and the corner of his mouth twitching in a surprised smile. He shook his head and stood up, throwing on his coat and scarf. "We better get you home…" He muttered.

"I thought you said we were going to your house?" She asked, following his lead by straightening her coat and hat, standing up with him.

"I didn't say we weren't," he replied, opening the door and ditching her to catch a cab that was hovering for its next fare beside the road. He waited for her, holding the door open so that she could go in first. The cabbie wasn't best pleased and the cold air being allowed in, but that person knew nothing of being a gentleman, so fuck him.

He must have a lot of money to live on another side of London, she thought, mentally slapping herself when she realized her boss was the third most successful designer in the U.K. Of course, he had a lot of money he was Lovino Fucking Vargas. She slipped in a hurry, apologizing to the cabbie with a hopefully grateful smile.

Lovino slid in after her, letting her settle and leaning forward to give his address. The cabbie raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Good. He sat back in his seat and looked over at Antonia, who looked like she'd fall asleep at any moment.

Antonia yawned, leaning over to rest her head on his shoulder, not even caring if it was sexual harassment. Being a pillow wasn't sexual harassment was it? She certainly wasn't leaning her head on the other side of the cab. _"Sorry,"_

He went to shrug and realized it would bump her head. "It's okay," He had to vocalize; nervous to look round at her for how close he would be to her head.

Antonia slid further down, resting her eyes, imagining what his flat would be like. Perhaps it'd be just like hers with the spiteful proprietor. Probably. He spent too much of his money on his clothes. Antonia practically got them from various jobs she had on the weekends. "Thanks. For everything," She added between barely un-moving lips.

He looked round at that —it was safe, she was further down than before, there was a decent space between them. "For what?"

"Well... thank you for putting up with me," he answered, looking at her hand, wanting to move so his own head was against hers. He didn't, of course.

The cabbie was shuffling around in his seat, grumbling about something but keeping his mouth shut for some reason. Antonia tensed and looked up from the warm, soft folds of Lovino's coat. "No problem," She whispered, relaxing back when it wasn't a problem.

"Don't fall asleep," He told her quietly, moving his arm just a little. "We're almost there."


	5. Chapter 5

The cabbie was shuffling around in his seat, grumbling about something but keeping his mouth shut for some reason. Antonia tensed and looked up from the warm, soft folds of Lovino's coat. "No problem," She whispered, relaxing back when it wasn't a problem.

"Don't fall asleep," He told her quietly, moving his arm just a little. "We're almost there."

Antonia nodded, her eyes opening to watch as they-

—went through a gate?

Oh, oh. She was _so_ not looking at the outside of this place when it had a gate.

They were at the end of his road, the cab drawing near to the other end of the street, so he had to shrug her off with a little apology while he fished out his wallet.

The cab drew up in front of a tall building. Its base was old, but it had been modernized and extended, like many of the buildings in the area, to put new apartments on the market. Lovino paid and went to drop him a rather paltry tip - grumpy old bastard kept muttering and complaining under his breath, it wasn't as if he controlled the weather —but in the end, he was more generous, and opened the door to help Antonia onto the street.

Antonia was a little less than graceful getting out of the car. From a by passer's prospective she probably looked drunk or worse. Still, she was able to walk, with the help of Lovino's slender arm.

So handsome, he was so handsome... She thanked him again, shutting the door so he wouldn't have to.

He had the decency not to laugh at her, but he was slightly amused as he pressed the button to get into the building, letting her lean on him as they walked across to the elevator. For the first time, it struck him how potentially awkward this whole thing could transpire to be, and for the first time, he realized _he_ didn't give a shit, and would show her up to his apartment anyway.

Her flat was already compared to a pile of shit to this jeweled up state of living. She sniffled, mostly from the cold air, but also from envy. "It's really nice." She answered as she leaned against the elevator wall— you didn't even have to close the doors; and they didn't even seem like a death trap when you walked in. The mall's elevators were a pile of shit as well, compared to this one. "It's really, really nice."

He chuckled, watching her wrap her arms around herself, her nose and cheeks red and flushed as she looked around, eyes wide and impressed, like a child. She looked beautiful like that, but freezing, and he lamented not having the guts to take just a little step closer to heat her up. "This is just the elevator," He told her, with no intention of sounding stuck-up or obnoxious.

"Yeah," She laughed, just utterly amazed. When it hit his floor, which Lovino kept blocking with his body, she looked at him, her smile probably all child-like and awed. "It's just so..." She whispered, blinking at the floors, which were so clean she didn't even want to step on them to make them dirty. "... nice,"

"Thank you." The doors pinged open, and he smiled and stepped back, allowing her to go first, nervous to see her reaction. Shit, he couldn't remember if he'd tidied up from breakfast or not...

Antonia took a delicate step, her hands knotted together with pent-in excitement. This was not her home, but god, how she wished it were. The marble below her clicked with the soles of her flats, and she tried to imagine herself walking home from work to here, her heels clacking on the floor as they would here.

"I don't know where it is," She lied, seeing the fancy ringer and the door, the flat number right beside it, even had the mailbox right there. God.

"...Right!" nodded Lovino, stepping forwards, finding his electronic key and swiping it at his door. "Just in here..." He held it open for her. Whether he'd left his shit out or not, manners cost nothing, and she could go in first. Well, they did cost, in his line of work, but not in front of Antonia.

Antonia slipped of her shoes, not wanting his floors that he probably cleaned himself to get all dirty. She looked around; straight into the living room to the best view of London, she had ever seen. She'd gone on the Eye once, but nothing compared to this. The lights were flickering on in the city, the snow blowing down... Antonia let out whimper of amazement; her feet all cozy in the carpet.

Shit. Sugar was lying out. There was a newspaper on the couch, a half-empty mug on the table... "Sorry," He muttered, edging past her to tidy up. "You can just put your things anywhere..."

"What are you sorry for?" She asked, turning around to him. She set her purse on the floor beside her feet in a little corner, as if the things would spread an air of cheap-bought this on my moving money mood. "It's so nice, you have really great place."

"It's a mess," He told her, embarrassed, dumping his cold drink in the sink and giving the mug a quick rinse. Great, now she would think he was a slob...

If this was a mess, her place was a _garbage dump_.

"No it isn't," She rushed, slipping off her coat, hat, and gloves, setting them under her purse. Out of sight, out of mind, she always said.

He hurried to take them from her and hung them up... they'd still be wet by the time she was leaving, if she folded them up on the floor. "Can I get you anything?" He asked, out of manners. It was a strange experience for him. Satisfying, though.

"No." She shook her head, smiling at him. Ah, and the night of fasting would begin. She bet Lovino had caviar, angel wings, maybe even the zest of a unicorn horn in his cupboards. "No, thank you."

Wow. That was definitive. "Nothing at all?" He pressed. He wasn't sure if he was a terrible host or she was a shitty guest.

"I'm fine," She insisted, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you."

He looked back at her, wondering what he was supposed to do. "Well, uh... there's some bruschetta and little... ham things in the fridge..." He told her, just in case. "Feli likes to cook," he explained, shrugging. "But the bedroom's through there, if you're tired."

She looked over to the bedroom, not even wanting to put her feet in such a nice bed. "Where are you gonna sleep?" She asked, looking up at him.

"On the couch," he answered, without a beat. Obviously.

Antonia shook her head. "You can sleep in your bed." God, she felt like such a poor person in here. It was terrible. "Or you could sleep with me." From the looks of it, the bed was probably the size of the sea.

He had to pause and restart his brain before he could say anything that made a lick of sense. "... That would give them something to talk about," He joked awkwardly, unable to answer 'yes' or 'no'.

"No kidding," She giggled, fidgeting like a nervous little kid in front of her distant family. "Still, it's kind of weird sleeping in someone else's place without someone there to talk to..."

"I can talk," He nodded, relieved at seeming to find a compromise and walking through to the bedroom with her at his tail. He'd sit with her until she fell asleep. There was nothing weird about that.

Oh god, how embarrassing this all was.

She rubbed her face, wanting to go home where she could wait on herself. "I'm sorry," She whined, resting on the edge of the bed. "I'm really sorry, Lovino," Although, in the heat of the moment, she didn't catch that she wasn't supposed to call him by his first name by instinct.

He paused, holding a pair of grey cotton trousers and a white t-shirt. He couldn't really expect her to call him 'sir' while she was sleeping in his bed. "It's nothing," He finally replied, stepping out and handing her the makeshift pajamas.

She looked up from knees on the bed, stepping up to get them. "I'm a terrible guest," Antonia whimpered, shoving herself into her boss's chest.

Lovino stiffened and put an awkward hand on her back to calm her down. There, there. Only a little. "No, of course not..."

"I feel like such an intruder, I do, I really do..." She mumbled, sniffling into his suit. God, he smelled so good. She swore, if she ever wanted to date a man, this man would be it.

"I would have told you if it was a problem," he answered, keeping his head up, so he wasn't too close to her. Granted, she was making that difficult for him.

She shoved away from him, not much to seem like that was very unacceptable and that this person practically hated her, but she graciously took the soft clothes that seemed like they've never been worn and scurried off to the nearest room with a lockable door. The closet.

Lovino wondered if he had offended her. Well, it couldn't really be helped if he had... he was just doing the right thing and distancing himself from Antonia, so he didn't get back into the loop of going weak at the knees every time he saw her. A few weeks ago, he'd wanted to have sex with her. Then, wanted to sleep with her, and then, wanted to wake up with her. In addition, she was going to step out at any second with his clothes on, and get into his bed. It was too much, too strange. However, kicking her out now would be worse, knowing she'd take it personally and probably resent him. He mouthed a few curses silently and took off his jacket, slinging it over his arm and breathing deeply. Just push through it, she'd be asleep in minutes.

Antonia wandered out in her makeshift pajamas, having to hold the waistband of her pants up so they wouldn't slide down and show her lacy tighty whities. She had gotten a little lost on the way, though. It was hard maneuvering around the multimillion dollar flat without trying to kill anything. Like a vase or two. When she showed up in the doorway, she could tell Lovino was fighting something mentally. Shit.

"Y'know, I really appreciate what you've done for me," She tried, sitting on the side of the bed that wasn't hers.

"Don't mention it..." He brushed her off and went to hang up his jacket, having to force himself to look past her.

Hatred. Resentment. Scorn.

She sighed, curling up onto the bed and under the— shit. These were nice covers... Antonia watched him as he preformed each movement fluid and careful.

_Why is it you don't love me,_ her mind hissed, her nails gripping the loose folds of the sheets. All of this care and tenderness was driving her mad. She wanted to be more than just friends were, but obviously, Lovino didn't want any part of that.

He was just her boss.

Lovino closed his eyes and took a breath while he faced the other way, flashing an awkward smile when he turned and going to sit at the end of the bed. "You still want to talk?"

"You're probably not going to like what I have to say," She told him, her voice barely above a whisper. "It might make you hate me forever but right now, I don't know why, but I need to get it off my chest..."

_Then don't say anything. Just go to sleep. Just go to sleep and we'll go to work tomorrow and pretend this never _happened_. _

He just stared at her, confused, panicked, intrigued. "Okay."

"Do you remember when I just started out? How I hated coming to work after that day?" She asked him, scooting closer but keeping a large distance away from him. "Well, after you started showing me who you really are, I really liked it... And soon I couldn't wait to get to work and see you..."

It took a minute, but he nodded, looking her over and imploring her to continue. She couldn't be saying this. It couldn't be happening.

It took her a moment to continue, since she was shaking like a leaf at how nervous she was being. How many of these did Lovino get a week, she thought and let out a half-cry half-laugh. She took a deep breath and fiddled with her position. "But now, every time I see you I don't see my boss any more, I see someone I want to hold and love, and support. And I can't do that because you _really_ don't want to,"

He let out an odd breath, somewhere between relief and grief, looking up at her. He could have cried for her then, awkward and desperate and scared... "Why are you shaking?" He croaked, moving closer and trying to still her hand with his own, and he couldn't believe it was all he could say. He couldn't even tell her that he wanted that, he wanted it so much...

"That's because I've been keeping this inside for weeks!" She nearly shouted, quickly silencing herself. "_You're_ the reason why I lost sleep last night. It's because you're just so— _beautiful_ on the inside _and_ the outside. _And I can't have you for my own!_" She felt tears leak from her eyes, feeling like a selfish little brat.

_How ugly, how sick... _

His grip tightened on her hand, and before he could stop himself, his lips were against hers. He wasn't sure why. It was wrong, and it was unfair on her, because he would have to stop and tell her that it wouldn't happen, couldn't happen, but he needed to do it. He needed to kiss her, he needed to let her know that it wasn't his choice that they weren't together, and he'd be damned if he had any actual words lined up that could describe even a fraction of how he felt.

She really, really hadn't expected anything of that sort to happen. Her hand was locked in his, her lips were being touched, and Antonia couldn't tell as the tears ran down and blurred her vision if it was out of relief and love or out of pity. She shook underneath him, wanting to grab onto anything she could to keep him close, to keep him near and dear to her. She kissed him back with all the passion she could muster from her very being. She _had_ to prove to him—

He shook his head and pulled away, frowning at himself.

_He was a sick, sick, selfish man..._

"I'm so sorry..."

"No," She shook her head. "No, _no_, don't be, please, Lovino, _don't be_." Antonia begged, gripping onto his hand.

"I shouldn't have..." He pulled his hand away from hers and ran it over his face, groaning. "I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry..."

The woman, now crippled and emotionally tattered, turned away and slid her feet down into the covers. "I don't care, because _I_ really loved it." She said quietly, like a child. "Imagine what it would be like if we did it everyday..." She smiled at the thought, now that it had been proved to her from the tingles on her lips that she traced ever so slightly with her fingertips. "Leaving to go to our flats, under the desk like the rumors said..."

"I thought you hated them saying things like that." He asked quietly, turning to look at her, so full of guilt and shame he wasn't sure what to do with himself.

"Because they would never happen," Antonia replied, staring at the pattern of his bedspread. "But after that..."

"Antonia, the things they'd say about us, about you..." He pressed, finding it harder and harder to justify himself. "You _know_ how they'd twist it any way they liked."

"Who _cares_ anymore?"

He looked at her, thinking of her scorn for his obsession with his image all that time ago, thinking of how much he'd hated to see her disappointment every time he would jump to defend himself at the risk of sacrificing integrity or any real morals. He thought of how hard he'd worked to overcome that, just to please her. He brought up a hand and put it to her face, using his thumb to wipe her tears. It was all he could do. "I care what they think of you."

"I do, too. That's why I just so mad about it," She whispered, craving each little touch he gave her. She didn't meet it; for she was afraid, like he'd back away and leave her by herself again. Her mind was just a mess of emotions, confusion, lust, doubt, exhaustion, and regret.

"You... you're _none_ of the things they make you think you are," He insisted, making her look at him, realizing the irony in everything he was saying. His voice was uneven and unsure. "How they see you doesn't change you. It doesn't matter."

"I just wish— I just wish they could see the real you. You're not so self-centered; you're not dying for an image like everyone thinks you are." She whispered, her hand reaching for his on her chin.

She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing that touch, even if it was a forceful one, could last forever.

"Lovino, _please_,"

He closed his fingers around her hand.

"I thought that until I knew you," He admitted quietly, looking over her beautiful face, tainted with tears that he had caused, and for what— for his own pride, and that she deserved so much more from him. "I thought I knew _everything_ until I knew you."

She smiled and breathed out, shaking her head. "You really did." Antonia whispered, reaching a free hand to move the hair from his face.

"And it really needed more red," He chanced, with a slight smile back. It grew more serious when he plucked up the courage to lean into her, but still present. "I need you more than I care about what any of them have to say."

All right, he had to give him that one. She laughed and gave him a soft peck on the lips before sliding back. Antonia tried to do that math in her head, but finally gave up. She didn't know what it meant now, but she was sure it meant something amazing. "Me too," She nodded, after a short yawn she hid behind her hand.

He waited for her to finish and smirked, trying to look mock offended. "Is that it?"

Panic suddenly cut through her cloud of emotions like a knife through butter. "No, no, no!" She rushed, gripping his hand. "No, I need you more than..." She bit her lip. She was now running on no sleep at all. "A tomato plant needs sunshine and water."

He shook his head, confused, but happy, God, so happy. "No, not that..." He pecked her lips, mimicking her. "Is _that_ it? At least let me try to make it up to you."

Oh. She nodded, tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear. "Lovino, you still don't know much do you?" Antonia teased, brushing her cheek up against his. "You just did."

Lovino shook his head, putting one hand up through her hair and pressing his lips against hers again, without embarrassment, without panic and without guilt.

He broke off, just for a second.

"I'll never thank you enough," He told her, going slightly red, but starting to see what she had meant about the whole 'honesty' thing being a high card to play. However, to save himself from over-thinking and ruining it, which was probable, he kissed her, easing her back against the bed.

She caressed his lovely red cheeks, her favorite color of them all. It was hard to believe _this_ man, now setting her against the mattress with the ease and touch of an angel's wing, was the one under seven darts she had thrown at her dartboard only a month earlier.

"Thank me later," She breathed in between his kisses, her nails gripping into his shirt. She had waited weeks for this moment; or at least, dreamed of such things; was told she dreamed of such things.

He nodded, straightening up and stroking her hair behind her ear until she closed her eyes. He stood up off the bed, and went to go through to the front room. There was no way he'd sleep beside her unless she gave him the green light.

"Hmph," She huffed, staring at him leaving. "I would have thought a gentleman like yourself wouldn't go off and leave a girl after she confessed her love to you, but then again, I can be mistaken." She called after him leaving, curling over to her side with the covers ripped over. She was almost too happy to be offended.

He was going to say something smart-assed, honest, but he just turned and looked at her, realizing how pathetic his excuse was, and laughing awkwardly before he even had a chance to say it. You're already wearing all the night-clothes I have."

Antonia processed that for a second, before rushing out of her covers. "Hope this means we're going steady," She mumbled, slipping out of his pants that already slid down to her ankles. She tossed them to him, keeping the shirt for obvious reasons.

"Uh," he stammered, looking her over instead of aiming to catch them and fumbling at the last second. Phew. Saved it. "Of course,"

She grinned, slipping back under before he took too much of a look. "Oh, that's nice." She whistled, setting her head back on one of the many throw pillows. "I Love you, love you, then"

He glanced over, making sure her head was back, but turning around anyway to get changed the most carefully he had ever done in his life. Trousers off, pajamas on, then shirt off, so he was never unclothed head to toe. He edged to the bed and slid in beside her, realizing he probably wouldn't sleep for hours. Oh, well. There were worse ways to spend an evening.

Antonia had dreamed her little, fourteen-year-old head off about how it would happen with the dip of the soft, foamy mattress and then the hesitation of whether or not he would join you in a nightly embrace. She breathed out, her smile still plastered on her twenty-three year old face, shoved deep under a mountain of sheets that smelled exactly like Lovino and something much more...

"Can I tell you something?" He asked, scooting over until he was beside her, turning his head so that half of his pillow was her dark brown curls. "It's stupid and you'll laugh."

"Hmm?" She asked, unmoving. Antonia could feel the warmth of his body close to hers; close enough to feel the dip in his heat waves.

Ah, shit. He immediately regretted saying anything, but she had bared more tonight, so he took a breath and muttered against her hair. "I wanted to kiss you at New Year's."

She raised one of her slack hands to her mouth to cover her happy little grin and the tiny giggles that caused her chest to shake. "Really?" Antonia asked, thinking back three days ago, how he had seemed a bit on the friendly side, how he had stuck around to watch the countdown; but after that, he seemed frustrated and a bit hard to be around. Now it all made sense.

"Told you you'd laugh at me," he murmured, feeling the mattress shift under her trying to suppress her giggling.

"I was wondering why you were acting like you had something up your ass," She laughed, scooting closer to him. How cute.

"You're supposed to..." He started, trying to defend himself, and realizing it would make it even worse, so he dropped his tone, embarrassed. "You're supposed to start the year how you want to finish it, so..."

Antonia's giggles stopped when he had finished that little statement, so she turned around, scooting back to give them breathing room. "I'm sorry, Lovi, we're a bit late. But better late then never, right?" She smiled, kissing him as he had done.

'Lovi', he thought, responding at putting a hand on her waist. That was new. "Do you think that'll count?" He asked after they'd broken apart, trying to ask seriously and pretty much failing.

"Count for what? I think it will." She nodded, although she was the Exception Queen of Exception Town.

"Good," He murmured, giving her a little peck just to punctuate everything. "Go to sleep."

"I want to but I can't now," Antonia smiled, scooting down to lean against his chest. "I'm too happy."

"What will we do tomorrow?" He asked, bringing his head down until it rested against the top of hers. "Will we let them know?"

She cradled her hands between them, feeling the pulse of his heart right up on her ear. Slow and steady. "Isn't having two people together working in the workplace strange enough? I could quit if you want,"

No.

He wanted to see her during the day, he wanted to see her smile when she got something right, as childish as that seemed. Moreover, he'd never get anything done, he'd resent whoever took her place, even if he told himself not to.

"If you think that's best," He muttered, kissing her hair.

Antonia smiled at the peck, relaxing back into his hold. "Hey, I said whatever you wanted. We could act like we fought for a few days and then we'd make up and be normal, no relationship." She offered, because she literally could not stand losing that pay. She had even planned to get a better flat.

"Why would we do that?" He asked, frowning in confusion. Literally, what could be gained from that plan?

"Well, that way, no one assumes anything, since we took off the entire day today." She mumbled, closing her eyes.

"... and we can't act like we're together?" He asked uncertainly, not sure if he was distraught or excited for the challenge.

"Whatever's..." She yawned, wiping her eyes. "... easiest for you, Lovi."

"We can sleep on it," he told her with a soft squeeze. "Good night."

"'iight." She hummed; smiling like a little dork as she finally got that content, happy sleep she had been hoping for with the one lover she adored.

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading our story!<p>

Lovino : pilkopants (kate)

Antonia : shooptastic (maria)

those are our urls on tumblr, so send us your thoughts, we'd appreciate it! c:

Have a very nice day, Reader!

Kate + Maria


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